


moments like these (and many in between)

by torigates



Category: Bones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can read the line of his back, the hunch of his shoulders. They tell her the case was hard on him. It was hard on Brennan too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moments like these (and many in between)

 

  
It’s a new habit of theirs.

They meet at the bar after work. Brennan’s not sure when they started this routine. She thinks Booth put his hand on the small of her back and asked, “Do you want to go for a drink?” Brennan must have agreed because it’s part of who they are now.

Booth sits on the stool next to hers. She can read the line of his back, the hunch of his shoulders. They tell her the case was hard on him. It was hard on Brennan too.

“I talked to Cam,” she says. The bar is emptier than usual. Brennan’s voice seems loud.

Booth turns his head. “Yeah?” he asks.

She nods. “I told her,” Brennan pauses suddenly unsure of Booth’s reaction. “I advised her to consider taking Michelle in.”

A slow smile spreads over Booth’s face. It’s familiar to her now, the way one corner of his mouth lifts, the crinkle beside his eyes. “You did, huh?”

“She’s – ” Brennan wants to choose her words carefully. She can tell Booth is happy with her, she’s just not sure _why_ he is. She can admit to herself that the people stuff—that’s Booth. “Michelle’s an orphan now,” she finishes. “And you said that Cam raised her. She should—she should be there for Michelle now. Even if she couldn’t before.”

Booth nods. “That’s good advice,” he tells her.

Brennan sips on her wine and watches Booth out of the corner of her eye. She’s caught herself doing that a lot lately.

Brennan’s never denied that Booth is an attractive man. He lost his tie somewhere between the office and the bar, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Every so often Brennan catches a glimpse of his tattoo.

Brennan’s thinking about his hands, his forearms. That’s something else she’s caught herself doing more often lately—thinking about Booth.

One of his hands settles over her wrist, drawing her back to their conversation. “You okay, Bones?” he asks.

She nods, staring down at his hand. It’s warm and solid over hers.

He chuckles. “Why don’t we get you home? You seem tired.”

“I can take care of myself, Booth.” It slips out before Brennan can even consider stopping it. That’s new too, the urge to censor herself. To let Booth take care of her sometimes.

“I know,” he says. Still he pulls out his wallet.

“Booth – ” she starts.

“I got this,” he tells her. “You can get the next one,” he interrupts before she can protest.

He always says that. They always argue over who pays.

(“It just makes sense, Booth. I have a lot more money than you.”

“Why do you always have to bring that up?” he asked “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were bragging.”

“Anthropologically speaking, males judge their self worth against their salary – ”

“Don’t start on that, Bones, please.”)

Tonight Brennan lets it go by without an argument. She believes him when he says she’ll pay next time. That’s how their partnership works.

Booth’s hand is on the small of her back, guiding her towards the car. The night air is cool on her skin. Brennan shivers, she still feels flushed from the warmth of the bar.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

She shakes her head. Still, his arm tightens slightly around her, and she leans into him.

They fall into step together. Booth walks with her to the passenger side door. These things they do, the diner, the bar, his hand at her back, the therapy sessions, their arguments, it’s part of them, and it’s been changing. Brennan knows _they’ve_ been changing, and she hasn’t been sure what it means or what to do about it.

Booth leans around her to open the door, and suddenly it becomes so clear. _They_ become so clear. Booth is standing so close she can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

All Brennan has to do is take a step forward the same moment Booth steps back from the door. Take a step forward, grab his jacket and press their bodies and mouths together.

So she does.

 

 

 

Brennan used to think there were a number of ways this could happen between them. In the end, when it comes down to it, really comes down to it, there’s only one: when Brennan kissed Booth, he kissed her back.

 

 

 

Brennan presses her palms against Booth’s chest, holding on as Booth takes a step forward. She feels the cool frame of the car against her back, the front door still partially ajar.

Booth’s hand is heavy and warm at the base of her neck. She can feel her pulse beating fast against his touch. He presses closer against her and slides one leg between both of hers. Brennan feels the contact throughout her whole body.

The cotton of his shirt feels crisp on her hands, and a dozen facts about cotton (cultivation, trade, environmental factors) run through her head. Brennan slides her hands over his shoulders chasing those thoughts from her head. Her fingers slide through the short hair at the base of his skull.

Booth’s hand strokes her neck, tilting her head back. He licks his way into her mouth and Brennan lets out a soft sigh. Booth presses her more tightly against the car, against his body, his other hand flat on the window, steady. Always steady.

It’s not enough. It never is with them. Brennan hooks her leg around the back of Booth’s knee, fitting their hips closer together, and Booth lets out a groan. It’s not a sound she’s ever head Booth make before, and it shoots through her body and settles tight in her stomach. Part of her wants to think chemical reaction and hormones, but Booth is so close all she can do is curl her fingers around his belt, dipping below the waistline. Booth gasps and everything but more, now, _Booth_ is gone from her mind.

Brennan slides her arms around his waist and presses her fingers into the muscles in his back. Booth breaks their kiss and buries his face in the crook of her neck, his hands clutching her hips. They stand like that, his fingers clenching her sides.

“Booth?” she whispers after a moment.

He hums against her neck. It tickles.

“Booth?” she asks again.

He hums and presses open mouth kisses on her neck. Brennan gasps at the scrape of his teeth.

“Um,” she tries. His lips and tongue and teeth trace patterns on her skin, following a path up to her jaw line. She turns her head and catches his mouth. She could get used to kissing his mouth.

“Bones,” he gasps between kisses. “Brennan. _Temperance_.”

She smiles and he kisses her teeth. She’s aware of the scratch of his stubble on her face, the movement of his hands up from her hips, his thumbs stoking the underside of her breasts. Brennan wants him. She wants _him_.

He groans again when she grabs his shirt between her fingers and yanks it out of pants, finally touching his skin. She wants more, always more and she remembers what he said about give and take. About giving up some of herself. She wonders how to tell him she’s ready to give him everything.

She digs her fingers into his skin and Booth lets out a shaky breath against her mouth. “Bones,” he whispers. “I should probably get you home before I decide it’s a good idea to take you in the back of the car.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” she pauses. “Though I can understand why you’d be hesitant to follow through on such an instinct.”

“I doubt it, Bones.”

“You’re the furthest thing from an exhibitionist, Booth, what with your religious beliefs and sentimental views on sex.”

His hands, which had been lightly stroking her stomach and sides, still. “It’s not about that,” he tells her.

“Of course it is,” she counters.

“No,” he stresses the word. “It’s not. It’s about us, Bones. You,” he taps her just above the heart, “And me. Whether or not you want to believe it that means something. I want to respect that,” he says. “I want to respect _you_.”

Brennan lets out a small laugh.

“Fine,” Booth starts stepping back from her. “Forget – ”

Brennan wraps her arm around him, pulling him towards her and cuts off his sentence with another kiss. His hands land around her shoulders holding them up.

“You do respect me, Booth,” she tells him when they break apart. “And I _do_ understand.

He studies her face before smiling down at her, one corner of his mouth turning up like it does when she says something right.

 

 

 

Brennan kisses him, and just like it has to be, Booth kisses her back.


End file.
